


I Do Not Have Writer's Block(Addicted To You)

by Loverboy (MythicObsessions)



Category: Fall Out Boy
Genre: 0-100 in like ten seconds flat, Barebacking, M/M, Riding, bottom!patrick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2016-01-28
Packaged: 2018-05-16 19:48:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,754
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5838637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MythicObsessions/pseuds/Loverboy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Patrick hooks his hands behind his neck, the cold press of his fingertips against his hairline is a comfort. Like a grounding force he needs so badly right then.<br/>It’s been ages since a word spilled out into the half-empty(or half full)document on his laptop screen.<br/>The room is loud, cracking with laughter from the open door into Patrick’s living room. Pete had come over around the sixth hour of Patrick’s agony, insisted on keeping him company, raided his fridge and is currently playing Patrick’s xbox.<br/>Well, it’s not like Patrick plays the thing much. Not these days.  But fuck Pete. Having all that fun while Patrick’s sitting in an endless loop of words that never sound right and chords that just don’t fit.</p>
            </blockquote>





	I Do Not Have Writer's Block(Addicted To You)

**Author's Note:**

> Smut. Unbeta'd.  
> Love me  
> Or don't
> 
> Whatever.
> 
> Request here:  
> https://ask.fm/Not_All_Broken

Patrick hooks his hands behind his neck, the cold press of his fingertips against his hairline is a comfort. Like a grounding force he needs so badly right then.  
It’s been ages since a word spilled out into the half-empty(or half full)document on his laptop screen.  
The room is loud, cracking with laughter from the open door into Patrick’s living room. Pete had come over around the sixth hour of Patrick’s agony, insisted on keeping him company, raided his fridge and is currently playing Patrick’s xbox.  
Well, it’s not like Patrick plays the thing much. Not these days.  But fuck Pete. Having all that fun while Patrick’s sitting in an endless loop of words that never sound right and chords that just don’t fit.

Patrick sighs again, revelling for a moment at the press of his back against the uncomfortable wood of his chair.  
It was a chair from his kitchen table, he’d just taken it out of the room months ago after Pete swiveled in his way more comfortable swivel chair for the last time. And it made Patrick’s back ache, and he hadn’t moved from it since the wee hours of that night. It was around mid afternoon now and Patrick hadn’t eaten or, hell, hadn’t even pissed since around 3am but that could be thanks to the fact that he had also not refilled his glass like he kept saying(thinking) he would.

He makes a decision not to be a completely terrible host, even if it’s just Pete and gets out of his (evil, satan)chair with a plan of salad and Pesto chicken for his irresponsible boyfriend.

  He slides out of the office with a yawn, glancing to the couch to see Pete, legs spread, elbows on his knees as he does _something_ on the screen.  
Patrick smiles fondly.  
“I was thinking about making some chicken and salad.” Patrick said, moving to lean over the arm of the couch.

Pete blinks away from the screen and looks at Patrick, frowning a little.

“Any chance of pizza?” Pete asks and Patrick just glares. “Okay, geez. Chicken is nice.”  
“Chicken _is_ nice.” Patrick agrees, moving to sit on the couch.  
His favorite spot, the farthest corner, is blissfully open for him since Pete seems dead set on sitting in the middle of the couch and he leans back into the plush of the furniture.

Pete set the controller down on the coffee table before turning to Patrick with a smile. A smile Patrick knows too well.  
“Hi, baby.” Pete purrs.  
Patrick rolls his eyes but grins at Pete.  
“Hi.” He mumbles, reaching for Pete and sighing happily when his hand curls in Pete’s shirt.  
“You okay?” Pete asks, a worried note in his voice that makes Patrick’s heart ache.  
“Not really but it’s okay.” Patrick says, looking at Pete with what he hopes is a reassuring smile. “It’s okay.”  
He presses forward until his lips connect to Pete’s and he blinks his eyes closed.  
It’s something he really never knows how each he misses, not until he can feel Pete sigh open under him.  
Not until he can taste something only Pete manages to taste like. Something like coffee and that stupid grape gum he chews all the time. Patrick still thinks of it as his favorite thing. Kissing Pete.

Patrick smiles into the kiss, already relaxing into the feel of Pete, the warmth of him. The cure to all bad feelings, Patrick thought.

Pete has a way. Patrick knows, a way to make Patrick lose his breath when he has no logical reason to. Forgetting to breath in through his nose might be a good reason but whatever.  
Pete only pulls away when Patrick’s squirming with both need and the _need_ to _breath._

“You hungry?” Pete slides across Patrick’s jaw and Patrick breaths in a lungful of air before moaning at the feel of Pete’s tongue on his neck

“Not really.” Patrick breaths, letting his head loll back. “Could stay here a little longer.”

He ran his hand up to Pete’s neck, thumb pressing lightly into the thump thump he felt there.  
Pete didn’t say anything but he pulled back.  
Patrick watches as he sits back against the couch and pats at his thighs, then he glares.  
“Nope.” He says shortly. “No way. Nope.”  
“Oh come on.” Pete whines.  
Patrick sighs but crawls over to Pete anyway, lifting up to throw his leg over him and straddle his thighs but not without glaring a little more.  
Secretly, and Patrick would never admit this to anyone let alone Pete, he loved sitting in Pete’s lap. Mostly the friction and the way it gave him more mouth to explore.  
He didn’t moan, he didn’t, when Pete’s hands slide up his thighs but he definitely did when they reached his ass and tugged him forward.  
And Patrick might not be easy but he was _hard_ .  
_Friction._ God, he wanted so much.

Patrick rolls his hips into Pete, moaning breathily when he meets more pressure. Ha, writer's block.  
“ _Fuck,”_ Pete groans, “Okay, okay.”  
Patrick smiles, leaning down, curling his back in a way that eases the mild ache there, to bite at Pete’s lips.  
“You wanna?” Pete questions and yeah, Patrick does.  
Patrick nods and slides his hands under Pete’s shirt, pulling it up a bit.

“Yeah, just-” He cuts off, tugging at the shirt. “Naked.”

Pete pushes at Patrick’s hands, grabs at his shirt and tugs it over his head, stretching over(not far) to the little compartment on the arm of the couch.

Patrick watches, rolling his hard on against Pete’s stomach, as Pete pops open the little container and pulls out a little bottle of lube.  
Patrick looks down at Pete.  
“What even…?” He asks. “Why is there lube in my couch?”  
“Because sometimes you ask me to fuck you on said couch.” Pete snarks, “and dry is kind of annoying. For both of us, mind you.”  
Patrick shrugged and then choked on a moan.  
“Shit.” He moans, thrusting against the hand pressing firmly against his dick. “Okay. yeah, please?”

Pete had a smile on when Patrick looked down at him again.  
“Oh fuck you.” Patrick breaths  
“No, you.” Pete shoots back.

“That's the idea.” Patrick said, rolling his hips again.

Pete huffs, his fingers moving to undo Patrick’s jeans as Patrick does the same for Pete.  
Patrick’s hands falter when Pete opens his jeans and gets a hand in them, wrapping tightly around Patrick’s dick and he moans.  
“Get these off” Pete squeezes Patrick’s ass in one hand and Patrick’s hopping up to obey, kicking at his pants until they lay forgotten on the floor with his boxers.

Patrick smiles at Pete when he sees him wriggling out of his own then Patrick’s climbing back up on him.  
And then there’s skin on skin and everything’s so hot. Pete’s hands pull Patrick down by the neck for a kiss that’s deep, and dirty, tongues coiling in a dance of dominance but in the end, like always, Pete’s the one that wins that little game. Patrick moans, ruts forward when he feels Pete’s cock against his and he wants Pete inside him already.

He pulls out of the kiss breathless and wanting, says “C’mon, lube.”    
And then Pete’s hands are gliding down, and Patrick knows Pete has no sense of cool when he pops open the cap of the lube and slicks three fingers without even asking if Patrick wanted three. He does so it’s okay but seriously Pete knows him too well.  
Patrick knows it’s coming but he still makes that annoying whine when Pete’s fingers find his entrance and _tease_ . Not pressing in but so _close._  
Patrick moans though, leans down to suck on Pete’s tongue while he works a finger in, rolls back against it when it brushes his prostate like a promise.

Pete gets to two before Patrick breaks their almost kiss, panting and pressing down against the pressure, hooking his face into Pete’s neck and just begging.  
“Please… Oh fuck, Pete. Fuck me.” Patrick begs, “Fuck me already.”

Pete nods absently but doesn’t pull his fingers out, instead finally pushing in the third.  
Patrick chokes back a sound, ruts down against Pete’s hand and then Pete’s pulling his fingers out and Patrick whines, hates the emptiness.

Pete hushes him with a biting kiss, and there’s a hand are on Patrick’s hips, moving him forward a bit.

Patrick was familiar with this enough to know when Pete’s cock pressed up against him. Familiar with the blunt heat.  
And Patrick takes control then, pushing down against that until he gasps and sinks down.

He doesn’t stop until he’s fully seated in Pete’s lap, panting heavy breaths against Pete’s neck.

“Fuck.” Pete spits out, both hands gripping Patrick’s hips. “Fucking…”  
“Fucking wow.” Patrick finishes, laughing a little.

That makes Pete groan and his hips jerk up a bit, which isn't funny, and Patrick stops laughing to moan.  
Patrick lifts up a little, his thighs shaking with the pleasure it brings. He falters at the tip before sinking down again and setting a rhythm, riding Pete as much as he can.    
It’s slow going, panting and kind of hard to manage until Pete tightens his hands on Patrick’s waist and lifts him up before pulling him back down and at an angle so Pete hits Patrick’s prostate head-on.

“Ah!” Patrick moans, surprised, rolling his hips as Pete lifts him again and slams him back down.

Pete groans and bucks up and _god_ that’s good.  
Patrick let’s Pete thrust up to meet him, mouths at Pete’s neck until a hand wraps around his dick and pumps in a slightly offbeat from their movement. It’s still so good.  
“Ah! Fuck, Pete.” Patrick moans, trying to thrust up into the hand and down onto Pete’s dick.  
“Fuck, fuck, fuck!” Pete grounds out, thrusts up maybe twice more before Patrick feels that familiar wet warmth when Pete comes.  
Patrick whines and follows him over the edge, coming in white spurts over Pete’s hand, his teeth sinking into Pete’s neck.  
“Ow.” Pete whines, after, his hand moving from Patrick’s waist to his neck. “That hurt.”  
Patrick rolled his eyes, panting and high off his orgasm. “Like you didn’t love it.”  
“I love _you._ ” Pete corrects, helping Patrick as he lifts off,  frowning when he winces.  
“That’s so gross.” Patrick mumbles, feeling a warm liquid slide down his thighs. “Ew.”  
Pete laughs and kisses Patrick’s nose.  
“You love it.” Pete says.  
“I love _you._ ”

**Author's Note:**

> I love patrick riding pete. So shut up and comment  
> Sharing is caring.
> 
> PS: I have a prompt/inspiration blog on tumblr  
> http://whennothingmeanssomething.tumblr.com/


End file.
